Never Is A Promise
by Watcher of the Stars
Summary: Watson called from the hallway, “You know I'd never leave you alone for more than a few days, you'd destroy everything – including yourself.” Holmes blinked absent mindedly at Watson's last statement, "Never is a promise. And you can't afford to lie."


**Author's Note: **This was a rough piece to write. Not only because it is sad, but because I've actually lived through this situation. My best friend got married nearly two months ago and I confess that it was the most painful experience of my life. It had been just me and her for ten years, and we were so close I could tell you the story behind every one of her scars. When we were young we promised each other that even if we got married, things would never change. And yet, after her engagement, I saw very little of her. And I do not see her at all now.

When I saw the Sherlock Holmes movie, I couldn't help but relating to Holmes as he watched Watson leave him alone with his insane mind. Anyway, good Lord, enough of my sob story! This was inspired by my own personal life and Fiona Apple's song _Never Is A Promise._ Also, I switched point of views in the beginning of the story. Please don't shoot me, grammar Nazis! This is very much un-beta'd by the way.

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Mrs. Hudson walked lightly into the study of 221b without knocking as a tray of piping hot tea and breakfast was being held. She was greeted by the sight of a detective nestled in a sea of newspaper clippings and hand scrawled notes on the floor, and his exhausted physician companion asleep in a heap in front of the fire, using a small stack of the papers to pillow his head. The dark haired genius had deep bags under his eyes and was glaring drowsily at a news article, no doubt attempting to find some sort of clue within its words. The only sounds were the slight crackle of a dying fire and the doctor's sleep addled breathing.

The woman frowned at the scene. She set the tray on the small table in the corner of the room and huffed over at the detective, "Mr. Holmes, judging by the state of this room, you have not seen a wink of sleep. Not only that, but you have exhausted dear Dr. Watson as well. Have you no mercy on him? He is a veteran who needs his rest."

Holmes' eyes flicked up at the woman as he scowled, "The old chap is of much finer stock than you assume. Now be off, Nanny. Go twit about someplace else."

With a huff, Mrs. Hudson scurried out of the room.

"Beast," Holmes commented to himself about the landlady as he turned his attention back to the paper clipping, before hearing a voice yawn behind him,

"You would be the one who would know what a beast of a person is truly like, wouldn't you?"

He turned to a stretching Watson and exclaimed, "The witch accused you of being weak scrap! I merely stood for your honor and you treat me with disdain? Really, Watson, how do ever expect to find a wife and all that nonsense if you have a reputation of man who's constitution is so inadequate he cannot even solve a case without be coming 'exhausted' by his frailty? And-"

He was cut short by a wadded up sheet of paper smacking him square in the jaw. Watson was doing a horrible job at stifling the grin that was threatened to break out on his face at Holmes' shock as he crunched another sheet into a ball.

"Holmes, no person is meant to stay up into the wee hours of the night studying every movement of a criminal, not even yourself - though I know you like to pretend you can. Mrs. Hudson was rightly worried, whether I'm healthy as a horse or no. Now, I know you've solved the case by the way you are acting."

"Indeed, I have," Holmes said staunchly, still slightly irked by the notion that he was, in fact, a normal human being, and thus bound by the idea that sleep was necessary. "Not that I'm going to explain it to you, you ungrateful-"

Another wad of paper popped him in the mouth.

"By God, Watson, would you stop that!"

This time, Watson did not even try to conceal his grin of delight. He chortled quietly to himself as he rose from his sitting position on the floor and began sauntering tiredly towards the door.

"Where are you going? Are you leaving me? Are you not interested enough in the case that you cannot even spare me even the time of day to explain it to you?"

"I thought that I was ungrateful and that you were not going to explain it to me because of that sin," Watson called from the hallway. "I'm only headed to give myself a shave and change out of these rotten clothes, for goodness' sake. Anyway, you know I'd never leave you alone for more than a few days, you'd destroy everything – including yourself."

Holmes blinked absent mindedly at Watson's last statement. It had come very easily out of the doctor's mouth, as if it was a simple truth and nothing more. The more he thought about it however, the more he realized what a significant truth it was. _I'd never leave you alone..._

"Never is a promise, John. And you can't afford to lie."

Watson peaked his head back into the room, shaving cream smeared across his cheeks, razor in hand. "I'm sorry, did you say something, Holmes?"

"No, nothing. You're hearing things, old boy."

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A year later, the church was beautiful. Actually, everything was beautiful. Lilies decorated the sanctuary, complete with white twill strewn over the rafters. Bright morning sunlight poured through the colorful, stained glass windows, making the interior of the building appear as though it were a lovely kaleidoscope of wonder. Guests smiled brilliantly as they eagerly looked ahead at the unfolding wedding. Every guest, say for for one.

Holmes sat silently in the very back of the church, for once nicely dressed and properly cleaned, more than acceptable for society. One would have called him the image of a perfect gentleman were his complexion not so sickly pale and brown eyes not shaded by deep, blue-black creases. His fingers dug into the wooden pew, causing splinters to lodge themselves under his nails. He did not feel them.

Watson had not given him the respect of being his Best Man. _Holmes, you are just too mercurial, you and I both know you'd loose the ring. No hard feelings though. Mary's brother will be the ring barer instead, _Watson had said. At the time, Holmes had laughed. Of course he was too flighty and forgetful, he could not even keep track of his own violin. However, his violin and his beloved friend's wedding band were two completely different things. One was his, and other belonged to the person he loved the most.

Suddenly, there was an outburst of applause and Holmes uncharacteristically jumped in fright before realizing the wedding was complete. Though, he mused, it felt more as though it was the ceremony to mark the official loss of his dearest friend than a moment to celebrate the union between to two people in love. He reluctantly stood himself, though did not clap as he hollowly watched now husband and wife gallop happily down the aisle.

Holmes gripped his chest, as it now felt there was an emptiness there. Even before the wedding, Watson had slowly been pulling away. He saw less and less of him the longer the engagement had lasted, but now it was final: Watson was truly gone. He was alone. He could only assume the doctor's words would soon come to pass, _You'd destroy everything – including yourself._

He found he could not bare to stay for the reception. Instead, he found a torn bit of paper dug from the deep recesses of his pockets. Scribbling a few words on the frayed scrap, he left it folded in a lonely manner in the middle of the plate where the place card of Sherlock Holmes had been set. He tried not to imagine the eminent confusion that would etch itself onto Watson's sharp features as he would later read,_  
_

"Never is a promise. And you could not afford to lie."

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